“Portraiture of Burhledeep, The Phare Siren – Collector Odi”
A most dizzying trek, it is, from the coast to Burhledeep. By the costly path, a day or two upon a sturdy vessel. Yet, by the vagabond’s voyage, which many of such a poor kind embark upon for prospect of a stable living, it is a week of nauseous cruising amongst the crags and sandbars folk have miraculously sculpted into towns and ports. Indeed, the kind hearts that offer these fares are a marvel of enduring disposition when regarded beside their abodes, shattered and riven from raids.
Wary must be the traveller once the coast of the mainland fades into the blue, for marauders and fiends inhabit these islets just as cheerily. The vast swath of them are either lame or desperate, and engage in near-constant, petty combat with one another, so say the insulars. The Free Fleets ever sway their influence, and conflict can be expected in regions with much wealth to be stolen, as well as wealth to pay the mercenaries who protect it. However, among yet unknown waters resides a band of organized raider fleets, a threat rare yet ceaselessly the maker of moribund sailors.
Even so, beyond the violence of piracy along the horizon lies a deeper trouble that emerges to feed as one strays farther from society. Sea monsters, known to many and seen by few, antagonize the depths, and are of too various a sort to advise wisely herein. If one is to truly feel safety far out amongst the waves, then it is the citadel that must be sought.
A beacon of beauty in the harsh nights on the water, Burhledeep shines with a crown of nine phares, surrounding a central lighthouse, the tallest and brightest of all. Its sprawl sits upon a trinity of grand efflorescent outcrops, giving only further notion to the sirenic nature of the bastion. By day, however, the scars of this sanctuary are clear, with rusted harpoons lodged into the bricks, dents from bombardment hidden well by the smoothing of the waves, and branches of old thunderbolts leaving regions of the green-stained wall scorched to an ash long after their casting.
About the walls and watch towers there stand many forces, both guardsmen and casters survey the sea for attack from raiders or lurking depth-dwellers. The guard employs specialized ballistae for the watery evils upon their attack and catapults for the plunderer’s ships. The mages, while fewer in number, are highly learned and have perfected the use of the magics best suited for their environment, and they have turned the tide of countless battles. So vast is this force along the barrier that it has become partially populated, and to an extent revered, with the resident defenders deemed Wallian by the populace within the hold.
The inner-hold itself is an interconnected unity of three regions, those being the citadel proper, affixed to the largest outcrop, which holds the great torch above the market areas and the Treasury westward and the port and Mareseum of the south. Life is simpler within, with fishing and loam pottery common, and a richness attained by the cargo shipped to and from the mainland. From the port, many spoils are brought to the Treasury, within which sits the Grand Treasurer, who coordinates the web of Burhledeep’s coin and contracts.
The reach of treasure spans as far as a horizon from the walls of Burhledeep, and it draws corsair and commoner alike. Yet, unlike other cities, paupers do indeed thrive here, and, although cautious, the people are content.
The Free Fleets
The surrounding islands had only small settlements, if any at all, but when evils began to rise from the depths of the east and bounties from Burhledeep became more plentiful, opportunistic fleets began building artificial harbors around the Treasury. First was the Hickoryfleet, an alliance of corsairs who built their ships from the hickory forests south of Spirehelm. They built their harbor by dredging material from the bottom of the bay and forming a circle around a small island. Once the circle was formed, they built tall walls and dockyards on the circle and a large lighthouse on the island. This way, officers in the lighthouse could see all the docked ships from the center for bookkeeping and security. This formed two narrow passages for entering and exiting the harbor. The harbor design did more than just keep the ships safe from storms; it also provided a seacastle for their ships against the bale of the sea. The design proved effective, and was copied by two more large fleets, the Spirebrine League and the Saltwyverns. These three were the only free fleets for a while, but one night a fire broke out in the Saltwyverns’ harbor and destroyed the fleet. The origin of the fire is unknown. Since then, many more fleets have immigrated to the region and built their own harbors and identities, many clinging onto the small islands of the archipelago and competing for the bounties offered by the Burhledeep treasury. The one exception is the Isle Lanionis, which does not have a fleet, but instead survives by selling exotic seafood, much of it coming from the carcasses of the very sea monsters Burhledeep paid to kill. The region is a colorful mix of chaotic competition and deadly rivalries, but their efforts have kept the creatures of the deep off of Spirehelm’s shores… for now.
Collected Records
Ten Bags of Gold
a story inscribed into the stone floor of the Treasury
Three lords lived in castles on the sea
Once tranquil shores became tormented by a fish of tremendous size and hunger
The three wealthy lords each put aside ten bags of gold towards killing the creature
The first lord gave all ten to the best seafighter in the realm
But the fish was faster than the lone captain
The captain searched and searched, but could never corner the fish
And the captain was lost to the sea
The second lord gave one bag to ten different whalers
But the fish was more fearsome than fishermen
Spread thin, each whaler encountered the beast alone
And the whalers were lost to the creature
The third lord offered up all ten bags to the first man who delivers him the fish’s carcass
Every man with greed in his heart took to boat and harpoon
And the fish could not overcome them all
Heroes of the Deep
Sing we, the common folk of Burhledeep,
All hail the Wallians and Corsairs of the keep!
They fight the sea monsters. protect our lives,
They will crush the beasts,
and their evil little hives!
The Corsairs of Free Fleets, for Treasurer’s coin,
The war on the Evil, on Our side they will join!
A sea-thief or sea-beast are all just a day,
They will rid them both,
And then they’ll get their pay!
The Wallians, oh valiant defenders of the Wall,
They protect our city when evil does befall!
They look out for danger up high on the Phare!
And when it fiercely reaches us,
They face it with a glare!
Sing we, the common folk of the keep,
Hail our heroes who war against the Deep!
A Duel at the Mareseum
The structure must have held more than the entire population of Voyager’s Landing. A hundred thousand voices filled the air of Mareseum like continuous thunder in a storm cloud. In the stagepool, there was a large-masted ship with a light blue flag, a ship of the Spirebrine League. On deck there were… were those teeth? A giant mound of flesh sat mangled, bloodied, and pincushioned with arrows and harpoons. Suddenly the entire theatre went silent. “What happened?” I whispered to the man next to me. “Shh, the Grand Treasurer is deciding if the contract’s been fulfilled. Two taps of his scepter means it’s accepted.”
The stadium waited with bated breath for the Treasurer’s taps. Instead, we heard horns… However, not from the Grand Treasurer’s box, but from another ship entering the Mareseum. A ship with beige sails and crossed spears entered, towing behind it a mound of fishflesh similar to the Seaguard’s. Whispers began amongst the crowd.
“Did the League steal the Venatores’ kill?”
“The League has honor. If anything, those Venatore brutes scooped up their kill and are passing it off as their own.”
“I’d take the League’s word over a Venatore’s.”
Soon a chant began to gain momentum in the arena. “Duel! Duel! Duel!”
The Mareseum hushed again. I could just make out the Grand Treasurer in the distance. Standing in his box, scepter left at his chair, he raised his arms, then held them out with both palms facing down. The Mareseum exploded with noise. The duel was accepted.
Instead of their main ships, each captain was given a small keelboat and placed perpendicular to the wind, facing each other. At the sound of a horn the boats were off. Blue versus white. At first they rushed right towards each other. It looked as if they were about to collide, but the Briner turned downwind at the last second. The crowd roared as the Venatore proved more courageous. Too close to the stagepool wall, the Venatore was forced to tack into the wind, and the gybing Briner was able to fully turn and catch up. The blue boat’s portside collided with the white’s starboard as both boats went into a reach. The Briner and the Venatore were now sparring sword versus axe as their ships barreled towards the other edge of the stagepool. Before reaching the other wall, the Briner kicked his rudder and the blue boat turned sharply downwind. The maneuver caused his boom to swing out and knock the Venatore off his boat. But instead of falling into the water, he grabbed the boom and held on. His boat crashed unmanned into the stagepool wall and sank. As the Briner’s boat continued to turn in a circle, its boom swung back the other way, bringing the Venatore with it. The seahunter swung his axe as the boom passed over the hull. An axe across the face ended the Rohnman’s life and a final two taps of the scepter ended the duel.
The Venatores won the contract, but who really bested the monster? Harpoons alone couldn’t rip that giant fish apart…
Rivann’s Journal
From the Journal of Rivann Jerya, member of the Burledeep Wall Guard, which was given away by his family to the archive after his untimely death.
I really thought today was going to be my last. Never before had I seen something like this in my whole life as a wallian. It was a stormy night. Not one of us believed we’d see a plunderer ship today, so we stuck to the harpoons. Skaalen was the only one to observe the horizon from the watchtower. He might’ve been the only reason we survived really. He started ringing the bell like a madman just as Dyfi reached the meaty part of his story of how he jumped onto a raider vessel. Of course, in the moment we were mad at him, poor guy, though disregarding our screams, he convinced us eventually to look at the horizon.
There it was, the black ship, the paint almost completely masking it in the darkness of night. It swam towards the wall completely uncaring for the thunder and thrashing waves. It was a giant vessel. How did it get through the free fleets without raising alarm? It just seemed so unthinkable. Due to Skaalen’s warnings, who could, quickly jumped to get their crossbows. Gerolf sprinted for Lord Erwin. I, with the old man, ran for the only two ballistae we got, while Skaalen got to the catapult. I am too terrified to think what would happen if we weren’t as prepared when the black ship started the onslaught.
They had a Ship Warlock. T’was obvious from the start when the lightning hit our wall, not one of us got hurt, bless Alithius, but I now know that the foul mage was not just an element weaver, no. We quickly realized how desperate the situation is when the sea serpents started jumping out of the water. I started raining bolts on the wyrms the moment they appeared, but to my surprise they started dodging them. They were no mindless beasts, they were puppets of the black ship’s Warlock. It was the first time our company ever had to fight ship and beast in the same breath.
Our old Captain Leofric, may he rest in peace, yelled from the other ballista: “Grab the harpoons and tie down the Serpents! Crossbowmen, shoot the bloody mage, or we’re all gonna die!” Then he got struck by lightning. We stuck to the orders, we fought and died, young Herbie got pierced by an arrow while running for the captain’s ballista, poor boy. But the tides started turning our way the moment Skaalen got a hit on the ship with a catapult rock. From that moment we actually thought we could survive.
Dyfi also died that day, he missed a harpoon shot by a hair, just as the foul sea-beast flew towards his neck. But the sacrifices of all our men were not in vain, for then our good friend finally came back, Lord Erwin by his side, and with the Wall Mage’s help, we forced the black ship to retreat.
Credits
Written by Chronicler of Poetry Ollie, Chronicler of Prosody Myr, and Joe the Collector